You know, in the long, long, long line of mistakes that had led him to this moment, at least Suli wasn’t here to see him like this. Hands bound with, what was this, silk? Something soft. Shirt gone into a huntress’ pack, carefully folded. Muscled arms around his middle. A ribbon tied around his neck, complete with elaborate bow and bell. [i]”Until I get you a collar fit for a Queen,”[/i] she’d whispered through her teeth.

She was going to kill him, wasn’t she? When she found out he hadn’t really meant to kiss her. Or, well, kiss her, in the sort of way that makes someone think you want to kiss them again, regularly, for the rest of your life. His memory wasn’t…no, his memory was just fine. He knew everything he’d said and swished and slashed, and none of that was particularly honest either, was it? 

She was going to kill him. Or at least be hurt and disappointed in him. Which was just about the same thing.

“I, don’t think that’s something we can really count on.” The pats were nice. Yuki was nice. Mikela keeping Yuki from seeing his back was very, very nice. “The prophecy said ‘tame him’, right? Well, I don’t think it’ll work if I just walk up to somebody and say, ‘yep! They tamed me!’ Doesn’t sound very tamed, does it? Goes against the spirit of the thing.” He nestles up flush against the Khan. To keep all the angles covered. “I don’t think we’ll have a Queen of Light until…” (At least blush when you say it.) “...um, until I’m. Tamed. For reals.”